Though she wanted to writhe and scream, Marietta kept her breathing even and slow, her limbs lax. She didn’t even hold her breath when she felt him step nearer to her.
At last his footsteps headed away. More gurgling that made her throat ache in longing as the steps faded to nothing.
Then frantic rustling, padded thuds at her side. “Give me a moment, dear. My hands are tingling.”
What? She couldn’t mean—but she did. The blindfold slipped away, though precious little light reached them in this rocky alcove. She could just make out Mother Hughes’s foot as she reached behind Marietta and worked at the gag.
“There.”
Thank You, Lord! Gasping in a long breath, she tried to speak her thanks aloud but managed only a rasp. Mother Hughes helped her sit up and then tilted a canteen to Marietta’s mouth. Cool water touched her lips, her tongue, her throat, and made the rest of the world brighten.
The woman’s frown didn’t agree with that assessment. She lowered the canteen again and scooted behind her. “These knots will take me a moment, I’m afraid. Oh, Mari—your wrists are bloody and raw. Do they hurt?”
Terribly, but Marietta gritted her teeth against the pain. “They have mostly gone numb. Why are you helping me?”
Her fingers didn’t slow. “Because you made Lucien happy. Because when I was ill, you cared for me with patience and love. Because every time I slapped at one cheek, you turned the other. You, my dear, are more my daughter than that monster out there is my son. He killed my son, my favorite son.”
Her head snapped around, though she still couldn’t see her mother-in-law’s face. “You—you were lying to him?”
“Where do you think Devereaux learned the art?” She grunted and tugged hard at the rope. “You must have loosened it some. I nearly have it…there!”
Her wrists fell to her side. Blood rushed into her hands, making her wounds catch fire. She clenched her teeth and scrambled for the canteen.
Mother Hughes settled before her, her face a decade older than it had been that morning. “You must find a way out. He will kill you, but only after he has made you wish yourself dead a thousand times over.”
Nodding, Marietta took another drink and looked around. This must be one of the caves marked on his maps. Would he have selected one with a single entrance? Even if so, she could surely sneak past them. There were only the two of them, and they were gone for long stretches, no doubt as they unloaded more crates from the train and carted them over what had sounded like a small bridge.
Though her legs protested, she pushed herself up and crept to the edge of the rock wall beside her.
A large central cavern stretched out, the pile of crates and barrels small within it. The line of muddy footprints tracked the men’s comings and goings. Lanterns revealed other dark, gaping places in the rock. Nine of them, counting the one she and Mother Hughes were in, which extended but ten feet off the main chamber.
“He told me nothing about where we are.”
“Rest easy, Mother. I have a few aces yet up my sleeve.” One large cavern, nine arms attached. The map surfaced in her mind. His sketch had been surprisingly good, the ratio exact. She hoped that meant she could trust it to have the twists and turns of the second entrance correct too. She turned back to her companion. “There is another way out. I saw a map he had drawn of this. We can—”
“You, dear.” Mother Hughes shook her muddied blond tresses. “I would slow you down. But when that other man carried me in, he knocked my head against something, and I’ve a bump. I will say you freed yourself and that you struck me. It will keep me safe.”
“I cannot leave you with him!”
“Mari, what hope have I of outpacing him through the woods?” Her look now bade her to be realistic. “You are young and strong. You must find the authorities and bring help back here.”
Another lie? Perhaps…perhaps she meant instead to warn Dev and disappear with him. But since Marietta could hardly drag the woman from the cave, she had no choice but to trust.
She stepped back into the sheltering oblivion of the wall and slid her eyes closed. “Lord, lend me Your strength. Give wings to my feet. Give purpose to my life.”
“Amen.”
Drawing in a long breath, she turned her back to Mother Hughes. “Would you loosen my corset? And untie the hoop and petticoats, if you would.”
“Of course.” Her fingers seemed to have regained some agility, for they flew over the row of pearl buttons and then tugged at her stays.
Marietta sucked in a deep breath for the first time all day and, when her heavy petticoats sagged to the floor, stepped over them. Mother Hughes secured the now-too-long skirt for her and then stepped away.
Marietta took a moment to capture the woman’s image as it was now. Dirty, bedraggled, broken—yet tall with that stubborn will that had caused Marietta so many headaches over the years. She surged forward and gathered her in a quick embrace. “I will send someone back for you.”